


Bar Tips

by primeideal



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Information Exchange, MayThe4th Treat, Pre-Rogue One, Takodana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:51:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: A pirate, a gambler, and a spy walk into a bar, and the Empire says, "What is this, a joke?"





	Bar Tips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookykingdomstarlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/gifts).



The strains of what passed for music that century floated over the bar. Of course the Empire would have to recruit anyone with half an ear for tradition and reverence for the past, leaving on its outskirts pirates who plundered together melodies from every planet they landed on and cobbled them together in as mishmash a way as the jankily-assembled spacecraft they had parked outside. Maz Kanata wouldn't have it any other way.

At a glance she noticed that her latest customer was parched, but waited for him to approach her. His spaceship was worn, and built to cloak well, but seemed to be of one piece, and had not seen action.

"Good evening," he waved. "Could I have a Naboo rainstorm?"

She knew the names of hundreds of orders—and dozens more special requests that were certainly not for sale. "Only without the rocks," she answered.

He gave a satisfied nod. "I'm afraid I'm running low on credits. Is it true you charge for a booth of one's own?"

"You're in luck," said Maz. "You can double up."

She guided him to a table in the back, where one of her regulars sat snacking on an appetizer. "I'll take a refill," Lando Calrissian asked.

"Don't rush me," Maz said. "I have a bar to take care of, people to see, air quality to regulate before delicate off-worlders pass out. I can't do this single-handedly." She wandered off slowly, fidgeting with her glasses before murmuring directions to staff.

"She probably _could_ ," Lando remarked to the newcomer, "if she put her mind to it. I think she, ah, sells herself short. To coin a phrase."

" _This_ is what I'm here to learn about?" snapped Cassian Andor. "Maz is too humble to praise herself, so she hires sycophants to do it by proxy?"

"Relax," said Lando. "it'll look weird if you get up and leave too fast. Make it look natural."

"And your mighty pirate can't cover my escape?"

"I think she'd rather not resort to that. For—whatever reason." Lando looked around the bar. Perhaps the raucous ongoings—at any given moment humans might be vigorously disputing the outcome of a sabacc game, Mon Calamari arguing over shortcuts through hyperspace, droids officiously translating insults about the girth of other clients' parental units—were actually giving them cover, instead of putting them in greater danger.

"I was led to believe you had information. Talk, or let me go."

Lando nodded. "It began some time ago. I was in a casino on Corellia." Cassian pursed his lips, but said nothing. He was clearly not impressed with Lando's choice of excursions, or perhaps the fact that he could afford to divert himself at all, but made no move to judge him; Cassian himself had picked up information from all over. Lando could live with that. "Owned and operated by one Neib Taifal, of Corellia. Her address can be found here." He rattled it off.

Cassian gave a curt blink.

"Are you recording this?"

"I'll remember. Go on."

"I spent a few days there, as I say, and wagered a few credits. I happened to win, and chalked it up to a bit of skill, and of course, good fortune."

Cassian laughed hollowly. "You don't attribute it to some Jedi instincts?"

"I'm not _that_ fortunate," said Lando. "No, as rewarding as gambling feels, I do not in fact recommend it to most people I pass by. In the long run, the house always wins. It's a business." He shrugged. "They need to make money, too."

"I thank you for your useful investment advice."

Lando held up a cautionary hand. "Taifal loses."

"I'm not sure what you're playing at, but if you think I need to go entertain myself—"

"No, listen. I watched for a while—at first just for my own profit, and amusement. Then because things weren't adding up. Taifal's casino is not making as much money as it should, and those credits have to go somewhere—you understand?"

"The games are rigged?"

"Not all the time. Maybe not ever. I'm not sure if she's giving it away, or just letting certain allies win. But seditionists on Corellia—they come away with the money."

"How do I know you're not making this up?"

"What reason do I have to lie?"

"To lure me into a trap? Why wouldn't you stick around yourself?"

"I'm not ridiculous enough to sign up for a revolution, I just figured someone ought to know something about this."

"So you think I'm ridiculous."

"You say that as if it were something to be ashamed of." Maz sat down another plate of snacks, this one closer to Cassian's side of the table. "Most people wouldn't cross the galaxy for a drink, but here we all are."

"Do you trust him?" Cassian asked.

"At my age, I find it unwise to trust anyone on blind faith," Maz admitted, "and surprisingly rewarding to trust all kinds of people, for the right price."

"And what did he do to get you to trust him?"

"That's between him and me," Maz glared, "as the nature of my trust in you is between you and myself."

(For a bar, it was nothing exceptional. They had bought drinks, and paid the cost for them, and sat awhile, and perhaps had sensed Maz' companionship. Lando had sought solace after defeat; Cassian, after victory.)

"But you think the rumors are true, then?" Cassian pressed.

"What rumors?"

"About the casino."

"He hasn't told me anything. At my age if I were going to visit a casino it'd need to pay out some fascinating knickknacks."

"I don't know that it _doesn't_ ," Lando admitted, "but from what I've seen of Corellia, it doesn't have much in the way of history."

Cassian shrugged. "It's a better lead than I've had for a while. I'll consider it."

"You're welcome."

With a nod to Maz, Cassian made his way out of the cantina.

"I suppose we shouldn't leave at the same time, either." Lando shook his head. "What do I owe you?"

"The question, perhaps, is what do I owe the pair of you," said Maz. "In the cause of freedom, I suppose an appetizer or two is free."

"Do those glasses of yours show the future?" Lando asked, stacking his dishes.

"Of course not," said Maz. "No one can see the future."

"I was just thinking, it'd be nice to know if this all turns out okay."

"It means I can play a fair sabacc game against you sometime," said Maz. "Get your priorities in line."

Lando smiled. "Maybe when your comrade comes back he can join us. I'd like to see him try to hustle you."

Cassian's spy ship, ready to infiltrate wherever it need be, took off into the night.


End file.
